


Toss the Sad Books

by Mooniki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooniki/pseuds/Mooniki





	Toss the Sad Books

“Do you ever think about the things that end in tragedy?” They were sitting on their trunks which had been turned on their short side, their thighs clenched with the effort of keeping balance. Sirius had his arms crossed, squinting through the steam at the students pouring out of the train who appeared one by one in new colours as if summer was the one place they could shed the uniform black. He had a wistful confidence in his face, his legs nearly long enough to reach the ground after months of growing pains.

Remus held his own in the unannounced contest to remain upright, but he was lighter and usually better at staying on his broomstick anyways. James had been trying to drag him to Quidditch tryouts every fall for the past three years despite Sirius hollering that Hogwarts Quidditch was amateurish at best and a complete waste of time. He’d begged off each time and his friends accepted his reluctance as another ploy to divert attention from himself. Every Tuesday evening, James would go off to Quidditch and Peter to Gobstones and the time was theirs to waste.

This felt like a Tuesday, he thought, then realized Sirius was waiting for an answer. “Erm, I don’t know what you mean, actually.”

“Like those sad plays you read,” Sirius offered. “I mean, it’s a load of rubbish. Why read it when you already know it’s going to end badly?”

“Why do you think?” Remus asked.

Sirius leaned his chin into his palm. “I’d always be hoping it would change somehow, or that maybe _I_ could change it somehow.”

“How would you do that?”

The black-haired boy was pensive, kicking the side of his trunk with his heels and scraping off the cursive “S” outlined in gold leaf across the leather lid. Then he shrugged and laughed, turning to swing his feet at Remus’s trunk. “I’d stop reading the bloody thing, for starters.”

“Tosser,” Remus smiled, aiming a kick of his own. Their legs tangled as they tried to unseat the other. Remus curled his fingers into the rusty edges of his trunk and was the last to surrender. Sirius’s trunk tilted dangerously backward but, barely acknowledging gravity, he brought the teetering pillar back to a standstill and produced two cigarettes which he offered to Remus.

Acting on instinct, Remus reached out, then drew back again. “My parents might see,” he said carefully.

Sirius scoffed. “They have better things to worry about.”

“My mum’s a muggle, you know. She swears these things will kill me,” Remus said, but he took one anyways. He touched his wand to the tobacco, lighting it, then tossed the wand to Sirius who lit his with a triumphant grin.

“Well, Merlin’s slantern forbid you live long enough to die of some pansy Muggle pox.”

“Merlin’s slantern?”

“Slanterns – by the hundreds,” said Sirius casually. “He was quite the lecher, I’ve been told. Outranks the whole family. My great-uncle Alphard tells the best stories.”

“Oh,” Remus huffed. “So you’re related to Merlin – figures.”

“Remus, half of Britain’s related to Merlin, and then some. The man’s nutsack was like a chizpurfle infestation.” Sirius pushed his hair out of his face to better examine the wand.

“Cypress, unicorn hair,” Remus supplied.  

“Brilliant. Here –” Sirius tugged his own wand out of his belt loop and handed it to Remus where it pulsated hot and cold in his hand, causing his arm to vibrate with a foreign energy. “Cedar and dragon heartstring, like the rest of my family.”

Remus let his fingers follow the intricate carvings on the handle, turning the wand to connect the constellation, though it was one he knew well. The wand burned his palms. “Cost more galleons getting that on than the entire booklist,” Sirius said disdainfully, snubbing his cigarette on his trunk.

“You might as well have gotten something else carved for all the pages you read this year.”

“Yeah, I could have,” Sirius said suddenly, lifting Remus’s wand to eye level and going cross-eyed. “Here, give me my wand back.”

“What are you going to do?” But Remus knew better than to wait for a clear answer. Sirius snatched his wand up with a grin and, holding it like a quill, steadied his elbow against his knee and began tracing the tip along the handle of Remus’s wand. Remus panicked. “I swear, if you end up drawing dongers –”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Sirius tutted under his breath.

“With all the empirical evidence in the world working against you –”

“There will be no bollocks on Lupin’s wand,” Sirius assured him. A welcome weight fell into Remus’s hands and he looked down to see a wobbly crescent moon burnt deep into the wood. The edges were jagged where the wood had cracked, smoking with new magic. He ran his thumb over it, numb with incredulity.

“That’s priceless, that is,” Sirius said, lounging back on his trunk and rocking it back and forth. “I’ve never done finer work for anyone else.”

Remus took a deep breath and looked up. “It looks like a Bertie Bott’s bean.”

“Alas, a true artist is never appreciated. You’ll just have to wait for me to snuff it before singing my praises,” Sirius sighed. “I see your mum, sodding ingrate. She’s waiting for you by the Ravenclaws.”

Remus craned his neck and he too spotted the woman whose chestnut bun was streaked with grey, distinct among the fresh-faced students. He waved and, face creaking into a delighted smile, she responded in kind, calling his name which he could not hear above the din.

“Have a nice summer then,” Sirius said, watching him as he hopped off and heaved his trunk onto a trolley. “It’s France this year, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, hoisting his schoolbag over his shoulder and sticking his branded wand in his pocket. “I’ll write. Might make it back early if we don’t find anything useful.”

Sirius righted his own trunk and leaned against the wall. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on London for you. Make sure it doesn’t go to pieces without Remus Lupin in it.”

“It’ll stay intact so long as you lot are indoors.”

“Then it’s falling apart already,” Sirius said steadily, holding his gaze.

Remus wanted to say more, but the words would not come. Instead, he leaned forward and hugged Sirius tightly, hand forgetting how to clap, and Sirius’s arms wound around his waist, holding him there. “It’s not the end,” Remus said into Sirius’s shoulder. “It’s just summer.”

“I know,” Sirius laughed into his ear. “And I said I’m tossing the sad books, remember? Until autumn, Moony.”

When Remus reached his mother, she rubbed her thumb against his cheek fondly, every freckle on her son in the places she remembered. “Your father will be joining us in Roussillon. And – what is it, my love?”

He shook his head and Hope turned. In the distance there was a boy perched on a makeshift column like a dark wick against the throng.


End file.
